


New Year's Eve

by IsabelleMajere



Category: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 21:23:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17251643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsabelleMajere/pseuds/IsabelleMajere
Summary: A little flashback that takes place a few months before the events in my fic, Devotion.





	New Year's Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:  
> Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I have any claim to Dragonlance or the Dragonlance characters, and I make no money whatsoever from this fanfiction.  
> \------------------------------------

The first rays of dawn crept through the single window of the small, well-kept bedchamber as Dalamar finished buttoning his chestnut brown tunic and picked up a comb. It promised to be a day of light duties, as his master was still resting after a rather intense period of work. For, while the rest of Palanthas had erupted into the week-long merriment of the Yule festivities, the archmage and his apprentice had been busy with a multitude of magical workings; rituals and spellwork that could only be performed successfully during the time of the Winter Solstice.

 

Despite the expectation of an easy day, the elf nonetheless pulled back his long dark hair into one of his usual styles, deftly working small braids into each side to keep it out of his face, just as he did on any other work day. Satisfied with his appearance, he smiled at himself in the glass before turning his attention to a narrow wooden box resting atop his dressing table.

 

Dalamar ran his hand over the smooth ironwood, quelling the urge to slide open the lid, pull aside the silk cloth, and take one last look at the gift nestled inside. He had already spent a fair amount of his limited free time holding and admiring the precious item since picking it up from a courier during his last trip into town. Now it had been in his possession for almost a week, though it had lived in his mind for many months before that. And it had seemed like such a glorious idea during all that time, but now the elf’s stomach danced with anxiety as well as excitement. Would his master like the gift? Or would he consider it too extravagant, perhaps even a little foolish? Would Raistlin see through the gesture and realize far more than Dalamar wanted him to?

 

But the time for doubts and questions had long passed. Dalamar would be late if he didn’t hurry, and he refused to give Raistlin any extra excuse to avoid eating a bit of breakfast, especially during this time of recovery.

 

The elf removed a long black garment from its hook on the wall. Raistlin seldom required him to wear proper mage robes within the Tower, but Dalamar put the robe on anyway, though he didn’t bother to fasten it in front. The climate in Palanthas was quite temperate but the stone hallways were drafty, especially in the early morning. And, more importantly on this day, the robe’s deep inner pocket was the ideal place to hide an unexpected gift.

  


\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“What are you on about, Dark Elf?” Raistlin snapped, his weary face the very picture of annoyance as he shifted his attention away from the books and scrolls on the desk in front of him. Almost as an afterthought, he dipped his spoon into a half-eaten bowl of porridge and took a modest bite.

 

Dalamar continued his task of shelving books and tidying up the room.

“I only wanted to know if you would like something else to eat,” he said in the calm, unperturbed tone of an experienced servant.

 

The human wizard rolled his golden eyes toward the ornate ceiling, then turned and fixed a scowl on the elf. “Besides all of this?” He gestured at the breakfast tray on his desk, which held a few pieces of bread, cheese, and sliced fruit in addition to the oat porridge.  

 

“I was asking, Shalafi, if you wanted anything _besides_ what you have there. I would have brought you more food from which to choose, had I known you would be up working instead of resting in bed as I expected. Since you have clearly decided otherwise -”

 

“I do not need another day of lying about, Dark Elf, nor do I need to eat anything more! And I most certainly don’t require a nursemaid! I must make these notes while the work is still fresh in my mind.” He dipped a quill into the ink pot. “And there’s the research on -”

 

“Respectfully, Shalafi, I believe that research can wait.” Dalamar strode across the room and sat in the chair opposite Raistlin, his frustration rising. “As for the notes...I can help you with those, as I’ve already finished my own. I…” He pressed his lips together and took a breath. Keeping his voice even, he leaned forward and began again.

 

“I do not wish to be an annoyance to you. I only want to help you, to serve the Magic by serving you. If you would but recognize how very much you have accomplished this last fortnight; and how much stronger you are than you used to be...and that soon you’ll be able to do even more, but only if you continue to develop the necessary strength. Taking care of yourself now will only advance your work. Don’t you see?”

 

But Dalamar had voiced many similar sentiments in the past, so he had very little hope that this particular plea would result in any sort of compliance with his sensible advice. Indeed, he had come to think, after almost two years, that his chief responsibility as Raistlin’s apprentice was to prevent the archmage from killing himself with his driving ambition. Therefore, the elf had to clench his teeth to keep his mouth from gaping when his master put down his quill and leaned back against his chair, slumping a little. His gaze pierced Dalamar as he spoke.

 

“You are right, of course.” And then he almost smiled, an unusual event which, when it happened, never failed to cause the elf’s heart to skip around in his chest.

 

Dalamar swallowed, blinked, and opened his mouth to speak. But Raistlin gave a low, tired chuckle and continued.

 

“I should listen to you sometimes, Dark Elf. It has occurred to me that your care and attention may have kept me alive on multiple occasions.” He reached for his nearly empty mug, and Dalamar hastened to refill it from the teapot, leaning forward to put it directly into Raistlin’s hand.

 

“It is an honour to serve you, Shalafi. Your well-being is paramount to the future of our Art. I can think of nothing more worthy of my time.”

 

At that moment there came a distant but unmistakable sound from miles away in the city, and they both turned toward the window.

 

“Why would anyone shoot off fireworks in broad daylight? Such a waste,” said Dalamar, scoffing, though he was eminently grateful for the distraction.

 

“Someone who indulged overmuch last evening and has not yet made his way to bed. That would be my guess.” Raistlin shrugged, taking a careful sip from his steaming mug before speaking again.

“And on the subject of festivities...I’ve noticed it has been quite some time since you asked for leave to spend an evening in town. As tomorrow is New Year’s Day, wouldn’t you like to join the celebration tonight? Your work has been exemplary these last months, and you deserve a reward. No,” he held up his hand against the elf’s coming objections, “I wish to show you my gratitude, and I shall be quite fine on my own this evening, I assure you.”

 

Dalamar paused, taken aback at his master’s strange new mood. “Thank you, Shalafi. I do truly appreciate your praise.” Here he gave a respectful half-bow, the best he could manage from a seated posture. “But I require no further compensation, as I already enjoy considerable benefits in my position here. And as you know, I have become increasingly dedicated to my studies of late, therefore I have no need to leave the Tower grounds.” His voice softened just a fraction. “Everything that I might require is here.”

 

The archmage studied him for a moment before speaking. “But you seem to enjoy social interaction, and...I am poor company for someone such as yourself.” And maybe it came from his own imagination, but the elf thought he sensed the faintest note of melancholy in Raistlin’s voice.

 

“You are mistaken, Shalafi.” He smiled in an attempt to indicate his sincerity, but soon felt his face growing warm. Desperate to change the direction of the conversation, he rose quickly and  sputtered, “Oh yes, I nearly forgot.” Crossing to the door, he reached into the pocket of his robe hanging there on the rack. Returning to his chair in front of Raistlin’s desk, he placed the shiny wooden box on the desktop. “For you.”

 

The mix of surprise and curiosity in his master’s eyes as he looked up at Dalamar made the elf’s heart flutter, and he held his breath as Raistlin slid back the polished lid and took out the silk-wrapped bundle. Placing it on the desk, he unwrapped the fine blue fabric to reveal a long brass cylinder accented with intricate silver filigree. Raistlin’s face lit up at seeing the beautiful object, as it only did when he first beheld a loveliness that would change very little with the passing of time. In these rare moments Dalamar fancied he could see how his master might have looked in his earlier years, before the Conclave had gotten hold of him.

 

“This is exquisite work, Dark Elf!” Raistlin whispered, tracing lines of the silverwork with his fingers. “Wherever did you find it?” He made to raise the cylinder, but Dalamar put a hand on it, stopping him.

“Not yet, Shalafi! Come to the window,” he said, beckoning for Raistlin to follow him, and he opened the drapes and inner curtains as far as they would go. “There.”

 

Raistlin lifted the kaleidoscope to his eye, and immediately gasped, then laughed softly at himself. “I feel like a child with a new toy,” he confessed, and gave another small, delighted laugh as he turned the end of the cylinder, moving it this way and that. After a few moments he switched it to his other eye, pointing the end at different points in the bright, cloudless sky.

 

Finally, he lowered the instrument and looked at Dalamar, who had to fight back tears at the almost peaceful expression on his master’s face. The muscles around his eyes and mouth were far more relaxed than usual, and there was a radiance about him that held none of the pain and misery usually caused by his cursed vision. But he was still tired, and less steady on his feet after staring through the kaleidoscope for a quarter of an hour. The elf took his arm and led him back to his desk chair, but left the curtains fully open.

 

“I’ve seen glass kaleidoscopes before, but nothing so extraordinary,” marveled Raistlin, examining the metalwork again, even as he settled back into the chair.

 

“That’s because there is no other like it.” Dalamar couldn’t help feeling a bit proud of himself. “I ordered it months ago, and had it made to my specifications; and I supplied many of the materials. The lens here,” he pointed, “was cut from that large bit of quartz I found in the garden last year. And some of the other stones were my own finds from my earlier travels, as well.”

 

“It is a wonderful gift, Dark Elf, and I thank you. And I do wish to hear more about it in detail, perhaps tomorrow. But I am suddenly very tired. Help me to bed, then close up all of this,” he said, waving a hand at the books and scrolls on his desk.

 

“Of course, Shalafi.”

 

\----------

“And you’re sure you wouldn’t enjoy a night in town?” Raistlin asked, once Dalamar had him settled in bed and was preparing to take his leave. The kaleidoscope sat on the nightstand, in its open box.

 

“Positive, Shalafi.”

 

“Spend this afternoon in your garden, then. And tomorrow, too. Surely that would please you.”

 

“It would, yes. Very much. Thank you, Shalafi.”

 

Raistlin looked at him, his gaze unblinking. “And I will allow you to use Magic to repair the old fountain.”

 

The elf’s eyes went wide. “Really?” Such permission had never been granted him before, and he had not even deigned to ask in this case, so sure was he of what Raistlin’s answer would be.

 

“Yes,” said the archmage, a tired smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he lay back onto his pillows. “None of us here knows how to do the work, and it would be impractical to hire another servant just for that particular need.”

 

“I...I hardly know what to say!” stammered the elf.

 

“As I said earlier, I wish to show you my appreciation. Now, clean up my desk, then go get your hands dirty. I will summon you if I need you before the evening. After dinner we will work on my notes, then perhaps watch some of the fireworks from the balcony, if you like.”

 

“Yes, Shalafi...and thank you. I will see you then.”


End file.
